


The Whipping Boy

by beamirang



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, BAMF Alec Lightwood, BAMF Jace Wayland, Child Soldiers, Corporal Punishment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Jace Wayland is a Herondale, Lightwood Siblings Feels, M/M, Magnus Vs Alec's self-esteem, Magnus is a good boyfriend, Parabatai Bond, Past Child Abuse, Protective Jace Wayland, Protective Magnus Bane, The Clave is awful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-25 04:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17718260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beamirang/pseuds/beamirang
Summary: Whipping boy1. a boy brought up together with a young prince and required to take the punishment for the latter's misdeeds2. scapegoatThe burden of command is one Alec shoulders gladly. When protecting his family has always meant taking responsibility for their actions, he's had a lifetime to prepare.It's the one thing he's good at. The one thing about himself he knows is worthy.So, of course, Magnus and his siblings hate it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I have written fic in a new fandom for literally years. I'm all caught up on the series, but still working my way slowly through the books, so please let me know if I am making any painfully obvious mistakes!
> 
> A small note: I don't believe any of the punishments used in this fic are in any way justified, but they do fit with the violent world the story is set in.

 

 

 

 

_ Whipping boy _

 

_1. a boy brought up together with a young prince and required to take the punishment for the latter's misdeeds_  
_2. scapegoat_

 

* * *

Magnus has always been far too intimate with the color of blood. A warlock’s quirk, he’s always thought. Part and parcel with the perks and pitfalls of his nature. He’s never minded it. Often, he’s been fascinated by it. There’s a power in blood that has nothing to do with death and everything to do with life. Blood binds, blood intensifies. It revives.

Splashed bright against Alec’s pale skin, Magnus suddenly finds it nauseating.

This, too, what he’s doing now… what he’s _not_ doing now.

The Seelie Court is as strange and whimsical as ever, its people equally so. The Downworld Council are all present and accounted for, bland, politically unthreatening expressions held in place with fractious effort. There are two envoys from The Clave - Greenbrook and Petran - and a handful of Shadowhunters. One, a boy barely older than Max, stands separate, chin wobbling and eyes glassy. There’s Magnus himself, and —

At the centre of it all, Alec.

Magnus doesn’t dare look away.

They are all there to ensure the Accords are upheld. Magnus and the others lay witness. Alec sheds his blood.

This isn’t how he imagined the day unfolding.

They — Alec — is eight lashes into a twenty lash beating. He’s on his knees, shirt discarded, and his broad shoulders are as upright and strong as ever. He’s not been bound. The punishment demands stoic submission, and Alec meets it unflinchingly. Magnus has seen him respond to a simple touch with more agitation than he’s showing now.

At Magnus’s side, as still as his parabatai, Jace radiates a violent anger that’s held in check only by Alec’s stern gaze. They’ve yet to break eye contact, no matter how hard the thorn covered vine lashes against Alec’s flesh. Time and exposure to both men has given Magnus some shadow of insight into their bond: whatever is unfolding silently between them is stuck in that awkward, unbalanced place that exists between a soldier and his commander, brother and brother. For now, Jace is obedient. He understands what Alec is doing, even as he hates it.

Magnus spares a thought for the young Shadowhunter standing apart from his colleagues. Theo. A child, really. A foolish, reckless child armed with the deadly skills of his kind and none of the common sense needed to safely navigate their worlds. It’s his hand that has led them here. His offense that has brought the demand for blood from the Queen. Alec, Magnus’s sweet, selfless, softhearted Alec, came as called, just like the rest of them. The charges are fair. The punishment just, if archaic. They’ve all agreed the price. Even Magnus, as distasteful as he finds it. This isn’t his first public flagellation. It’s not his hundredth.

Ten lashes. Eleven. Twelve.

_“I request the Right of Substitution. I am the boy’s Commander. His actions are my responsibility.”_

The taste of bile has yet to fade from Magnus’s mouth. Of all the foolhardy, stubborn…

He’s not surprised. Furious, yes. At Alec as much as he is the situation. And at Jace, who hasn’t muttered a word of protest. Jace has broken beings in half for even looking at his brother in a way he’s disliked, yet here he is…

Here they both are.

Thirteen. Fourteen.

It’s okay, Magnus tells himself. Alec’s fine. He’s not uttered so much as a whimper, not twitched even a finger. He can endure. He can take it. Better this than a return to the hostilities they have only just risen above.

If Alec cries out, Magnus will burn the entire Court to the ground. If he flinches, if he begs, there won’t be anything left to identify. Magnus will turn the world to ash. _I can heal him_ , he thinks desperately. _I can make the pain stop._

Alec endures in silence. Magnus watches in silence. One is born of bravery, the other of fear.

Six more. Five more…

He can’t do this. He _can’t_. How often has he held Alec in his arms, too late to protect him from the dangers he encounters every day? How often has he kissed him in the morning and feared he might not get the chance to do so again at night?

The vine snaps down again. Alec’s blood spatters across the moss strewn ground.

Magnus takes a half step forward, magic rushing to his fingertips.

Jace clamps a hand tightly around his wrist. “Don’t,” he says, his voice deeper and closer to a snarl than Magnus has ever heard it.

“How can you just watch?”

Jace’s expression flickers to something heartbreakingly young before it hardens back into anger.

A loud sob rings through the clearing and for a second, Magnus fears it’s his own. It’s not. Tears are rolling down Theo’s cheeks.

_They all want to grow up and be like Jace,_ Magnus remembers Alec saying with an exasperated little grin. _The Angel help me. Like I need more trouble._

Magnus doubts his dear Alexander has any idea how much the young ones idolize him.

Just like that, it’s over. The Seelie guard rolls up the bloody vine and nods his head respectfully in Alec’s direction before bowing to his queen.

“You bare your pain with dignity, Mr Lightwood,” she says, and Magnus hates her more in that moment than he has ever hated anyone in his long, long life.

Alec, already back on his feet and reaching for his shirt, bows his head also. He’s finished training sessions looking more rumpled and worked over than he does now. He’s not even breathing harshly. “Your Majesty. I trust that’s our business done?”

The Queen regally inclines her childlike head. “Take the boy,” she says.

“Thank you,” Alec says.

Magnus tastes blood, his jaw aching from being clenched so tightly. When Alec turns to him, Magnus has already begun to open a portal back to the Institute. The Council, the Clave — they can figure their own way back. Magnus waits for Jace to push a sobbing Theo through the portal, waits for Alec to follow, then steps through and slams the metaphorical door behind him.

 

* * *

“Ichor duty,” Alec is saying to Theo when Magnus arrives. “Three months. And you’ll report to Isabelle every morning for extra assignments.” They’ve emerged on the grass outside the Institute. It’s a rare, quiet afternoon, and so there is no one to mark the suddenness of their arrival, not even the mundane that usually congregate.

Blood is pounding through Magnus’s head. His ears are ringing. He can — he can _see_ the way the fabric of Alec’s shirt clings to his back. He knows no one can walk around with that kind of damage and appear so calm, so at ease.

Theo sniffs and drags the back of his hand under his nose. “Ye-yes, yes, sir. I’m - I’m… I’m s-so sorry. So-so sorry.”

Alec frowns and Magnus imagines Theo is praying for a rift to open up beneath his feet. “Stop,” Alec says. “You’re a Shadowhunter. You’re too old to be crying because you screwed up a mission.”

The disapproval from his hero, perhaps even more than witnessing Alec’s beating, causes the boy to shrink in on himself in misery.

Magnus’s eyebrows climb in astonishment. Of all the many and varied things Alec is, cruel is not one of them. He can be painfully blunt, but he’s never callous. Especially not with children.

“Alec,” Jace says warningly.

Alec blinks, confusion clouding the coolness of his earlier expression. “You’re dismissed,” he tells Theo. “Stop by the infirmary and get checked out. Once you’re cleared, you’re confined to quarters for the rest of the day.”

Theo barely snaps his heels together before scurrying away.

“What?” Alec asks, finally turning to face them both. “I know I was harsh, but-“

“Shut up,” Jace snaps, his anger finally unrestrained. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Alec’s shoulders finally tense. “Not now, Jace,” he warns. There’s a sudden weariness around his eyes that softens the edge of Magnus’s shattered anger, but Jace pays him as much attention as he would a warning sign at the edge of a cliff.

“You swore. You _swore_ you’d never--“

It’s easy, sometimes, in the shadow of Jace’s blazing presence, to forget just how tall and imposing Alec can be. Now, practically nose to nose with his brother, the scent of blood sharp in the air, Alec looks every inch the warrior he is. “I was doing my job!”

“Because Angel forbid anyone accuse Alec fucking Lightwood of being remiss in his duty!” Jace snarls.

Magnus has seen this often enough to know where it will end. He’s never met two people as in tune and devoted to one another as Alexander and Jace. Likewise, he’s never met two people so uniquely positioned to hurt one another. They fight each other with the same ferocity they fight the world, and they wound each other just as easily.

“If,” Magnus finally finds it in himself to speak without screaming, “you two are quite finished? Perhaps we can get inside so I can see what damage Alexander has endured and, I don’t know, fix it?”

The hostility drains from Alec’s shoulder the moment Magnus speaks. He tears his eyes away from Jace and they soften. When his hand reaches to cup Magnus’s cheek, Magnus grabs hold of it and clings. That cold aloofness of command melts under Magnus’s touch and he’s Alec again. Magnus’s Alec. The man he loves.

“Magnus,” he whispers, “I’m fine, really. It’s nothing to worry about.”

The disgusted noise Jace gives is the first thing to make Alec flinch all day.

“Look after this idiot, won’t you?” Jace says to Magnus. “I need to go break something.” Magnus inclines his head in a silent promise to do just that and Jace, arms crossed tightly as they so often are when he feels off balance or frightened, throws one last glower at Alec before stomping off towards the training area.

Alec lets out a great sigh and drags a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he says to Magnus, his eyes trained on Jace’s retreating back. “He’ll calm down.”

if they were at home, this would be where Magnus latches his arms around Alec and holds him like he can hope to keep him forever. Here, in the Institute, he doesn’t dare hold Alec’s hand. He knows how hard Alec has had to work to regain the respect for his team, and he won’t jeopardize that, no matter how badly he needs to feel Alec’s hand in his own.

There’s a million things Magnus wants to say, starting and ending with _why_?

Everything, from Jace’s furious but silent acceptance, to Alec’s unnaturally high stoicism is settling under Magnus’s skin, drawing sharp attention to all the parts of a picture he still can’t see whole.

He understands, logically, why Alec offered himself up. Of all the Shadowhunters Magnus has met, none have ever embodied the mundane’s perception of an angel quite the way Alec does. He’s selfless. It’s one of the many things Magnus loves and admires about him.

What he doesn’t understand is what’s followed.

Alec’s study is a safer haven than his bedroom, especially when Magnus closes and locks the door with a snap of his fingers.

Aiming for a levity he doesn’t feel, Magnus says, “I never thought I’d see the day Jace Herondale just stands by while you’re being hurt.”

Alec actually rolls his eyes. He’s amused. There is, apparently, nothing wrong with a day in which he’s quietly beaten bloody. “I was being punished, Magnus. It’s hardly the same thing.”

For all that he’s terribly open and honest, Alec can be something of a minefield to navigate, especially when it comes to all things Shadowhunter. Magnus is surprised to see none of the usual warning signs he gets when he treads too close to a sensitive subject.

Tiptoeing, Magnus forces a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Isn’t it?”

He reaches for the hem of Alec’s shirt and gently peels it away from raw and bleeding flesh, refusing to think of the last time he did this and how very different it was.

“Jace may have a short fuse, but he’s not stupid. He knows what interfering would’ve done. It’s not like you did anything either.” There’s no accusation in his tone, no indication that he’s at all upset by Magnus’s inaction. If anything, he sounds satisfied in how it all played out. That doesn’t stop the sudden lacerations that cut across Magnus’s heart as sure and deep as any lash of thorns.

“I’m struggling to understand that myself.”

“It had to be done. That’s all there is to it.”

“Simple,” Magnus says hollowly.

The blossom of a smile on Alec’s face is heartbreaking. “Exactly.”

He turns obediently when encouraged, baring his back, his wounds, without any kind of shame or agitation.

Magnus takes a breath, and reconsiders his desire to burn all of Seelie to the ground.

_How?_

_How did he let this happen?_

“Oh Alexander,” the agony in his voice must be clear. Alec turns, his expression a picture of concern. “My dear Alexander.”

“Magnus?”

“Hush,” Magnus turns him again and takes stock of what needs to be done.

Each lash has drawn blood. Some are deeper than others, but even the shallowest split of skin has to be painful. And yet, if he’d not seen their delivery with his own eyes, if Alec had just walked into his apartment that evening like he always did… how long would it’ve been before Magnus realized?

The effort it takes to heal broken skin is but a drop in an ocean. He rests one hand lightly on Alec’s hip, inches from the spot Magnus kissed only last night. It’s grounding as much for him as it is for Alec. Within minutes, he’s knitted torn flesh and muscle, vanished blood and bruises, and let the weight of his love sink into Alec’s bones.

Free from pain, Alec takes Magnus in his arms and kisses him gently. “Thank you,” he says. “Jace normally helps, but I know it upsets him.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Magnus swallows around the lump in his throat, letting himself lean into the warmth of Alec’s embrace, torn between despair and wonder at the strength he can feel beneath the skin. One of Alec’s large hands curls around the back of his neck, his thumb finding the spot of skin that always makes Magnus melt. For a man so skittish when receiving affection, he’s remarkably free in giving it.

“Don’t be upset,” Alec says, finally pulling back far enough to kiss Magnus on the cheek before stepping out of their embrace.

Magnus won’t lie and say he’s not, so he changes the subject instead, cringing at how abrupt he sounds.

“You must be starving. Lunch? There’s a remarkable little café in Venice that sells the most sublime caprese salad.”

He’s given one of Alec’s endearingly lopsided little grins. “I wish,” he says. “But I need to write up today’s report. And then there’s all that –” he waves a hand at the pile of files stacked up on his desk and looks apologetic. “No rest for the wicked, right?”

“Or the angelic, apparently,” Magnus jokes, his gut clenching. They’re really not going to talk about this…. “Don’t you have lackies? A PA? A secretary? You _are_ head of the Institute. Oh! Maybe _I_ can be your secretary! I’m sure I can rustle up a suitable uniform.” He ends with the same devilish smile that has always punctuated their flirtations and feels some of the tightness in his chest unravel at Alec’s slow blink and rising blush.

“Because that’d be so helpful for my productivity,” Alec mutters, looking down at his desk as though he’s never seen it before.

“Fun though,” Magnus points out.

“You say that now,” Alec says, “but wait until you’re trying to decipher Jace’s field reports: he thinks the word ‘fucking’ adds gravitas.”

“A man after my own heart, truly.”

Dropping gracefully into the chair behind his desk, Alec shakes his head in amused despair. “I swear, the half of my life that isn’t spent getting him and Izzy out of trouble is spent chasing them for paperwork. Raincheck?”

Magnus pretends to think about it. “I suppose so.”

“I’ll pick up pizza on my way home?” Alec’s smile is in full bloom, rare and all the more cherished for the way it curls around that word.

_Home_

Magnus knows his smile is as wide as Alec’s. “All the magic in New York at your fingertips and still you want to pick up takeout. Alas, we have so much work left to do.”

“I’m a simple man, Magnus,” Alec says. He’s already turned to look at his monitor and Magnus knows that’s his sign to leave. “Simple pleasures.”

“Simple, my darling, is the very last word I’d use to describe you.”

As he unlocks the door and steps through it, the smile has already slipped from Alec’s face. He’s not completely closed off - if anything he looks rather exasperated by what he’s reading - but it’s so far from the open happiness of just moments ago.

He leaves Alec to his work. He does have things of his own that require attention at some point during the day, but first….

Jace is exactly where Magnus expects to find him.

There’s not much left of the training dummy he’s been beating on, and the rest of the Shadowhunters in the room are giving him a wide berth. Magnus can’t say he relishes the idea of such close proximity to a furious Jace Herondale himself, but he at least doesn’t have to fear for his limbs.

He knows he doesn’t make a sound, but Jace stops the violent flurry of attacks anyway. When he turns to face Magnus, there’s more self-hatred in his expression than anger.

“He okay?” Jace asks. He’s dripping with sweat, golden hair hanging into his eyes and his shirt soaked through. If Magnus knows him — and by now he thinks he does as well as anyone who isn’t Alec — he knows Jace will work himself to the point of exhaustion.

“I healed the damage and left him merrily bemoaning the state of your field reports,” Magnus says. Jace’s mouth curls at the edge, but it’s not enough to erase the misery of his expression. “It’s as if nothing of note happened. I’d admonish his stubbornness if I I didn’t know he actually believes that to be true.”

He follows the tightening of Jace’s jaw, the clench of his bruised fists and the gleam of something horribly close to tears in his eyes.

“So tell me, Jace,” Magnus says, a flatness to his voice that Alec can only hope to emulate. “Just how many times has your brother taken a beating like that in the past?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter deals with two very young, very confused, very hurting boys. Both have been abused in different ways, and both are struggling to find some stability within a very tremulous world. 
> 
> I am also firmly in the belief that 10-year-old Jace swore like a sailor.

They wind up in Hunters Moon almost by default. The bar is slowly starting to fill with early evening regulars and the sounds of everyday life give them privacy to talk freely. Magnus still wards the booth that they’re sitting in.

They’re uncomfortable enough with both the company and the conversation without wanting to fear overcurious ears.

Jace, having already downed the first of their drinks in one, now nurses a glass of scotch. If he glares at it hard enough, perhaps some of Magnus’s magic might set it alight in sympathy.

The silence stretches. Magnus knows better than to push. Alec might be pathologically opposed to opening up about his pains, but Magnus is armed with at least some tricks for coaxing him out of his shell. Since he has no desire to use them on Jace, his only option is to wait the silence out and give thanks for his immortality.

“I’m not telling you this because you deserve to know,” Jace says, not looking at Magnus at all. “You might be his boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean you’ve got a right to his past any more than he has to yours.”

“I can respect that,” Magnus says, and he can. This isn't a conversation he's ever expected to have. Not with Jace. Not with anyone. “Why _are_ you telling me?”

He wonders if Jace even knows that himself, then shakes himself for his foolishness.

Jace knows. Jace probably knows better than anyone that there’s something wrong with his parabatai.

If this were something Alec was trying to hide from them, if it were some wound uncovered that Magnus might heal….

But it’s not. The problem isn’t that Alec is bleeding internally, but that he apparently considers it perfectly normal.

Jace takes a breath and doesn’t start where Magnus expects him to. “Nobody can really understand what being parabatai feels like if they don’t have one. There aren’t really words. Maybe that’s the point, I don’t know. I know when he’s sad. I know when he’s hurting. I never…” he hesitates and swallows painfully, “I never knew how bad it was until I felt how happy he is with you. It’s… how do you know something’s missing if you’ve never felt it in the first place?”

Magnus breathes out slowly, his heart aching. How can he feel any kind of joy at the knowledge of how happy he makes Alec when it comes with the understanding that Alec has never really _been_ happy before?

“That’s why I’m telling you,” Jace says. “Izzy doesn’t know, and I’m always going to be his little brother. He’ll do whatever the fuck he thinks he has to do to keep me safe, no matter how I might feel about it. But you… maybe you can do what we can’t.”

“You told me once that you’d never let anyone hurt him,” Magnus says quietly. Jace finally meets his gaze, eyes red and full of self-loathing. “Let me shoulder that responsibility with you.” A shudder races through Jace’s body. Neither of them can forget that conversation any more than they can forget the night that followed. Seeing Alec on that ledge….

“He’s always protected me,” Jace whispers. “Right from the very start.”

* * *

 

Jace is ten and terrified. He’s been in Idris with the Lightwoods for nearly a month, and he’s no closer to understanding the new world he’s in than he was on his arrival. He’s never had a family before. Never had siblings, or a mother or anything to worry about beyond the narrow field of meeting his father’s expectations. He’s always had rules. Always understood the consequences of failure. If he screws up, he’s punished, and he carries the pain from it into improving. Into not screwing up again.

Here, there’s no snap of bone following a mistake. No empty, hollow ache in his belly when he’s sent to bed with no food for the second day in a row, no echoing horror when the door closes and he’s locked in the dark with his fears.

His tutors are stern but distant, and when his new parents sing praises of his abilities, there’s no ‘but’ tacked on the end. When Isabelle asks him to play with her, the games are innocent and painless, and when Alec and he spar, first blood is the point at which they stop, not a sign to work harder.

Jace doesn’t know what’s expected of him and doesn’t know where he stands in the hierarchy of his new world. If he can figure that out, he knows he’ll be fine. He’s adaptable. He’s a survivor.

But right now, he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It’s keeping him up at night, and it’s starting to show in his studies. Sooner or later, he’s going to mess up in a way they deem inexcusable, and he’s no idea what to expect.

Maybe they’ll just throw him out.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Jace struggles to hold back tears.

“Jace?”

Alarmed at being caught off guard, Jace spins, fists raised. Opposite, half bathed in the shadows, Alec frowns at him. He’s got his back to Isabelle’s bedroom. She has nightmares. Jace has heard Alec sneak in to check on her before, and he’s heard her sneak out in search of her brother just as often. Jace has never dared join them.

“Nightmares?” Alec asks.

Jace isn’t sure he likes Alec much. He’s not got a huge pool of people his own age to compare him with, but he can count on the one hand the number of times he’s seen Alec smile since meeting him. He’s quiet, rarely speaks unless spoken to, and never gets a single answer wrong in their lessons. Isabelle, Jace can read. Alec, not so much. That scares him.

Still, Jace is too tired to pick a fight. He shakes his head. You need to sleep in order to have nightmares.

Alec’s frown deepens. Jace cringes. Did he say that aloud?

A hand suddenly curls around his own. “Come on,” Alec says, drawing them both away from the bedrooms. They aren’t supposed to wander the house at night, and Alec isn’t someone Jace can ever imagine breaking the rules, but he follows.

“Where’re we going?” Jace asks, his eyes fixed on their joined hands. He tries to remember a time when someone has held his hands before, and can’t.

Alec doesn’t respond until they are in the kitchen. “Sit,” he orders, gently pushing Jace down onto the long bench that runs alongside the large workstation. Alec doesn’t join him, instead reaching for a pan hanging over their heads and setting it on the stove. He’s much more contained with his movements than Jace, shrinking into himself when he’s not being spoken to and trying to take up less space than he does. Jace has always been taught to own his environment, but Alec looks like he wants to become part of the background.

When Jace has dreamed about having a brother, it’s someone his own age, maybe younger, who would run and fight and seek out adventure at Jace’s side, mischief and excitement in his eyes as they explore the world together. Quiet, boring Alec, two years older and a hundred years more serious, has never been a consideration.

He watches Alec move about the kitchen and envies him. How much easier would Jace’s life be if the secure, safe life Alec has were his own?

A steaming mug is pressed into his hand.

Jace stares at it. Alec’s made him hot cocoa.

“Drink,” Alec says, then adds, “I’m sorry.”

The surprise of the statement is a good excuse to keep Jace from bursting into tears at the warm mug he’s been given. “Why?”

Alec sits opposite, his back as straight as it is during their class. Not much of a sloucher, always parade ready. That at much, Jace understands.

“I thought I was looking out for you, making sure you were settling in okay. Guess I’ve not done a very good job.” Alec’s mouth turns down in misery.

The first sip of cocoa is scalding hot, but the bittersweetness of dark chocolate and cinnamon seems to seep into the heavy ache of Jace’s limbs. “Why’d you care?”

The frown on Alec’s face deepens. “You’re my little brother. It’s my job to look after you.”

Little brother.

Jace’s never imagined being someone’s little brother. He’s never imagined anyone, not even dutiful Alec, deciding Jace deserves to be called such. Something warm blooms in his chest that has nothing to do with his drink. He’s seen how Alec is with Isabelle and Max. He hugs them without hesitation and those rare smiles of his are always reserved only for them. He listens to Isabelle chatter on for hours about her science projects and just as patiently helps her with rune studies. He feeds and plays with Max, never getting angry when the baby makes a mess or too much noise. He tucks them both into bed, checks Max’s closet for demons and Isabelle’s window ledge for spiders.

All silly, stupid, childish things that Jace doesn’t need.

Wondering if he actually _wants_ them is terrifying.

He slams the mug down and scowls. “I don’t need anyone to look after me,” he snaps.

Alec rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and that’s why you’re not sleeping.” He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Alec talk back to someone. Typical that he chooses to start with Jace. “Finish your cocoa.”

“Or what?” He’s two years younger, but he’s better in a fight and proved it more than once.

Alec shrugs his shoulders. “Or it’ll get cold.”

There it is again. A consequence that isn’t a consequence. A response to his actions that doesn’t end in pain.

Disobedience isn’t supposed to be met with such rational acceptance. If he doesn’t do as he’s told, Alec is supposed to make him, or at least punish him.

Obedience. Discipline.

No wonder Alec is so weak.

“I’m weak because I’m not force-feeding you hot chocolate?” Alec looks bewildered. Jace swears, loudly and creatively.

“You’re weak because you’re not enforcing the chain of command,” Jace says. “You’re the oldest, right? You’re seriously telling me Maryse and Robert handle all the discipline here? They’re hardly ever around.”

Alec blinks at him, a slow, calculated look that settles into something alert and knowing. That’s better. That’s what Jace expects. It finally clicks into place.

No wonder he’s on edge. No wonder he doesn’t understand the way things are supposed to work around here.

The person he’s waiting to deliver his punishment is just too fucking squeamish to hand it out.

Instead of being angry at Alec for the weeks of uncertainty, Jace feels something close to elation. This, he can help with. Maybe he’ll even be doing Alec a favor.

“Look, if you’re worried I’ll make a big deal about it, you don’t have to be,” Jace says reassuringly. “I won’t cry or anything, and if you mess it up, I won’t tell your parents.”

“Mess it up,” Alec echoes.

Jace nods, buoyed to enthusiasm by their new common ground. Alec’s great at taking criticism and Jace is great at taking a hit. They can figure this out between them. “Just tell me the rules,” Jace encourages, “and the punishments, and I’ll make sure we do them right. Won’t even make you come find me.”

Alec swallows. “Finish your cocoa,” he says again, his voice rough.

Jace grins at him. “Or what?”

“Or I won’t make it for you again,” Alec says.

It’s not anything close to the kind of consequence Jace has in mind, but maybe Alec needs to work up to it. He studies the mug, then shrugs. It’s good cocoa, and Jace likes that Alec made it for him. He drains the mug and passes it to Alec’s waiting hand.

Turning his back on Jace to clean up the utensils he’s used, Alec says, “Go back to your room. I’ll be up in a bit.”

Jace snaps his heels and races back upstairs to wait.

This is good, he thinks. This is what he needs.

It’s over an hour before Alec finally comes into his room. Jace, exhausted from weeks of unease, warm from the cocoa and relaxed by the sudden stability of the ground beneath his feet, wakes up sprawled over the top of his bed. Alec is tucking a blanket over him the same way he does for Isabelle.

“Are you going to punish me now?” Jace asks tiredly. He doesn’t want to move, but he will if Alec tells him to.

“If you do something wrong,” Alec says quietly, fussing with the pillows and looking everywhere but at Jace, “which you haven’t.”

Jace thinks of being out of his room, of going to the kitchen… technically, Alec _did_ give him permission, if only by allowing it in his presence.

“You’ll tell me?”

“I’ll tell you,” Alec promises. When Jace is tucked in as well as he can be, he surprises them both by bending down and kissing Jace on the forehead, exactly the same way he does for Isabelle. “Go to sleep, little brother.”

If being Alec’s little brother means he’s always got someone to report to, Jace figures it can’t be so bad.

* * *

  
Magnus orders them both more drinks. Besides him, Jace’s tortured self-hatred has softened entirely to affection.

“He sat me down the next day,” Jace says, smiling into his glass. “Told me all the things I could and couldn’t do. And he’s Alec, right, so he had a spreadsheet and everything.”

Before today, Magnus might’ve smiled. Now, he understands that so many of Alec’s systems come from a need to maintain control. For himself, but also for Jace.

“I pinned it on my wall, first thing I hung up,” Jace continues, oblivious to the heartbreak he’s so calmly delivering. “The worst punishment on there was being sent to my room without supper, so, you know, I had to test ‘em all out. Make sure he wasn’t lying.”

After everything Jace has said so far, Magnus can’t help but marvel at the young man - boy, really, in so many ways - besides him. Jace has seen so much of the very ugliest things in life, and his spirit remains pure and unbroken.

Gently, Magnus says, “Is that where the penchant for rule-breaking comes from? You were testing boundaries.”

“I went from living with someone who’d break my fingers for fucking up a note in a concerto to living with Alec, who’s about as gentle as it comes when he’s not killing demons,” Jace says bluntly. “It was a learning curve.”

“I can’t imagine,” Magnus says softly. “But I’m guessing there’s more to the story?”

The misery floods back into Jace’s expression. He nods, visibly struggling for words. When he finally manages, his voice is choked. “I didn’t say those things to make him feel sorry for me,” he says. “It wasn’t like that. It was just - I was just so tired, and so scared I’d fuck up so bad they’d kick me out, and—“

“Jace,” Magnus would never normally reach out and touch someone without absolute certainty of their consent, and certainly not someone who has had their body and mind violated as often as Jace has, but in no world can Magnus see Alec’s parabatai suffer and not try to offer comfort. “You did nothing wrong.” He lays his hand over Jace’s wrist, his fingers light and unrestrictive. Jace doesn’t try to pull away. If Alec were here, they’d be so tangled up in each other it’d be hard to see where one ended and the other began.

Jace nods stiffly. “That’s what he says.”

“He might not be entirely wrong,” Magnus says with an encouraging smile. “Tell me what happened.”

With the same courage Jace embraces before a fight, he squares his shoulders. ”He gave me the list. I picked the most important rule on there, and I broke it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of in-depth discussion on child abuse in this chapter. Jace is possibly the world's most unreliable narrator, Robert and Alec have fucked up notions of 'acceptable parenting' thanks to a life in the Clave, and Valentine is, well, Valentine. Magnus is probably the only person anyone should be listening to on the subject, and he has his own issues and experiences to contend with. I wouldn't trust any of the 'adults' in this story with scissors, let alone a child. Absolutely nothing in this chapter should be taken as a guide on how to raise children, and the characters opinions on the subject are meant to be their own, not necessarily mine. 
> 
> I wanted to explore how the parabatai bond might initially work, so both Jace and Alec have fairly extreme reactions, being only a week into their new bond. We will be looking at how that has developed over time to something far more manageable and less dramatic (mostly, comas aside).

Jace is fifteen and there’s a second heartbeat inside his chest. He has a _parabatai_ , and his place in the world is no longer something he needs to worry about. He can be in Idris or Edom, and he’ll always have a home with Alec. It’s only been a week since the ceremony and Jace still has to stop and _feel_. The bond hasn’t just given him an awareness of Alec, but a self-awareness as well. In order to feel Alec’s soul entwined with his, Jace now has an awareness of _his_ soul as well. The things he’s feared about himself can’t possibly be true in the face of this new, indescribable contentment. Alec, who trusts so few and loves ferociously, knows Jace’s heart and soul in ways that should be terrifying, but aren’t. Alec _loves_ him, and if Jace is worthy of that love, he can’t possibly be the things his father always said he was.

They might not be in Alicante anymore, but the Institute is as much home as anywhere. He has Alec and he has Izzy. He has his runes, dark in their permanence. He has a job he excels at, a life he loves, and he has the familiar comfort of Alec’s presence wrapped around him at all times.

He doesn’t know when Alec stopped being someone to fear and started being the shelter to which Jace would run.

Of course, Alec is still a pain in the ass, stick in the mud spoilsport who insists on protesting any and every plan Jace and Izzy hatch. Jace loves him more than he’s ever loved anyone or anything, but Christ. He’s going to be Head of the Institute someday, everyone knows it. Jace and Izzy have a bet on how long it takes Alec to make Consul. But, and it’s an important but, Alec is still only seventeen. He’s seventeen, and he smiles even less than he did as a child. His sense of humor has evolved from something shy and tentative to a particularly scathing brand of sarcasm that delights Jace as much as it annoys him. He thinks he can take some credit there. They compliment one another perfectly: Jace is the foil for Alec’s cripplingly mature seriousness.

Besides, everyone always looks at Alec with more respect in the days that follow one of their escapades. He’s so quiet and unassuming that the explosive rants he fires at Jace and Izzy for breaking the rules always manage to surprise other Shadowhunters. Since he’s the only one with even a modicum of influence on his siblings, Alec is nearly always left to handle their punishments himself.

Today’s rant was certainly… colorful. Jace grins, remembering the thrill of sneaking out for a hunt, the elation of knowing that Alec will have to loosen up a little just to follow. Getting covered in sewage and dragged back to the Institute by the spitting, angry cat his brother resembles when he’s mad is undignified but worth it. Now, Jace is clean and confined to his room for the rest of the weekend. Alec will bring him meals, scowling and irritable until Jace gives him the sorrowful little brother eyes, and then he’ll cave in. He won’t let Jace off the hook, but he’ll probably let Jace talk him into a round of chess, and he’ll read over the field report Jace has to submit.

He really should get on that. Report writing is one of his least favorite things. It’s not that he can’t do it, just that he’s nearly always told he’s done it wrong. There’s no lash of pain or blood for his failure, but the inadequacy hurts regardless. He’s too direct, or not direct enough. The list of shortcomings is endless and always makes him feel sick. Conversely, it’s also one of the few things Jace does that never fails to make Alec grin. It’s often a pained expression, underlined with exasperation and occasionally horror, but Alec finds Jace’s field reports hilarious. He’s not supposed to, he knows he not, but he does, and Jace can’t bring himself to deny Alec one of his only guilty pleasures.

Pushing himself up on his elbows, Jace contemplates doing some stretching as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. His feet touch the floor and without warning, his knees abruptly follow. Bewildered, Jace clutches the bedsheets, trying to find some stability as the steady warmth in his heart gets sucked into a swirling vortex of pain. Jace gasps, tears springing to his eyes. As he struggles to breathe, a part of his mind that knows this, knows pain, fires back online after years of dormancy.

He takes a breath. Then another. He’s not in _actually_ in pain. He’s not _actually_ hurting. He doesn’t know what it is, only that his heart is struggling to convey that something is seriously wrong. Not with him. He’s fine. He’s not…

Alec. It’s Alec.

Jace is on his feet and rushing to the door before panic can finish setting into his bones. The door’s not locked: he’s trusted to take his punishment without having to be locked in. Jace doesn’t care that he’s breaking the rules. He doesn’t even care that he’s going to royally piss Alec off.

Alec’s hurting. He’s in pain.

He’s also in the Institute and the list of possible scenarios in which he might be hurt range from a misstep in a sparring session with Hodge to a full infiltration by demons. All Jace knows is that if Alec is in pain, the only place in the world Jace should be is by his side.

People scurry out of his way once he sends the first few bystanders flying. His expression sets them all on alert, trained, experienced eyes darting around the institute, trying to understand what would send Jace into a near-hysterical panic.

Alec’s not in the training rooms. He finds Hodge instead, who pins Jace with a hand on his arm. “What’s wrong?” he demands, eyes steely and calm. His grip tightens around the staff he’s holding, ready for a fight.

“Alec!” Jace is seconds away from bursting into tears. The adrenaline in his system is more than he’s ever experienced before, every sense, every instinct stretched and heightened to a fine point. It’s the bond. This is the first time he’s ever felt Alec in pain, and the bond is forcing his mind and body to prepare itself for battle.

 _Overwhelming_ , that’s one of the words that’s been used more than once to describe some of the side effects of the bond. _Carefully monitored. Needs time to settle into your bones._

“Probably still getting his ears boxed in for letting you and Isabelle wander off for the fifth time this month,” Hodge reprimands.

Jace doesn’t wait around to defend himself. Twisting on his heels so swiftly he almost overbalances, he sprints through the corridors towards Robert Lightwood’s office.

How long’s it been? Minutes? Hours? He reaches the top of the stairs and relief explodes in his heart. Alec is heading his way, whole and alive and –

“Jace?!” Jace has never thrown himself at anyone the way he does at Alec. His feet leave the floor in his desperation to close the gap between them, and Alec, sure, steady Alec, has him wrapped up safely before Jace can even stumble. “What’s wrong? What happened? Jace!”

Jace, his face pressed against Alec’s neck, the heartbeat in his chest perfectly in time with the heartbeat against his ear, bursts into tears. He’s dimly aware of Alec setting them both down on the floor, quickly realizing that if he can get close enough, hold tight enough, he might be able to physically crawl into the space in Alec’s chest that mirrors the one in his own.

Jace is still sobbing when the office door opens and Robert sticks his head out. “Alec, wha- Jace?”

Jace feels Alec shrug but doesn’t dare let go.

“Inside,” Robert says, “ let me-“

“No!” Alec’s outburst is sudden and loud, “don’t touch him,” he says. If Robert is upset, Jace can’t see clearly enough to tell.

“Jace,” Alec soothes, a hand gently stroking the back of his head, “come on, you need to…” Jace clings tighter. It’ll take every demon in Edom to drag Alec away from him right now. “Alright, alright. You know, you’re getting too tall for this.” He’s firmly in big brother mode, but Jace can hear the underlying wobble in his voice. If Jace is overwhelmed by what he’s felt from Alec, the feedback loop is bound to be just as intense. The more attention he pays, the easier it is to feel the way Alec trembles lightly against him. The cleaner the echoing stab of need strikes into his chest.

Alec stands with a grunt and hauls Jace up with him. He’s strong, and a whole head taller than Jace. He’s the safest place in the world, and he doesn’t ease back when he sets Jace down on the couch in Robert’s office.

They stay sat together, clinging and shaking as the adrenaline leaches from both their systems. A blanket is thrown over their shoulders, and they both startle. Robert’s hardly a man prone to coddling, but he passes them both a glass of water and waits them out as they slowly untangle enough to drink.

“Well,” he says eventually, “that was rather intense.”

Alec recovers first, “What was that?”

“A fledgling _parabatai_ bond,” Robert says. “This is all still very new for the both of you. Things can be overwhelming the first few times.”

“I-I,” Alec draws in a sharp breath, “Jace felt that?” There’s something utterly accusatory in his voice that has the usually aloof and stern Robert holding his hands up in supplication, trying to appease his eldest.

“No.”

“You promise—”

“Jace was in no pain, Alec. I swear it.”

Alec still has an arm around Jace’s shoulders. He’s a stalwart, ferocious defender. “Then why is he so upset?” Alec’s temper is at it’s most formidable when he feels Jace, Isabelle or Max are in any kind of danger, whether it’s physical or emotional.

“He felt that you were in pain. The first few times can be hard to process, and he’s still very young. The bond is designed to alert either of you when the other is in pain so that you might aid them in battle. This-“ he waves his hand at Jace and Alec’s trembling forms, “is your body’s way of processing the messages being sent. It gets easier, I promise.”

Alec’s anger evaporates and he deflates against Jace’s side. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Confused, Jace pushes back, trying to get enough distance to read Alec’s face without losing the contact that’s grounding them both. “Why are you sorry? Why are you in pain? Who hurt you?”

“I’m not,” Alec takes Jace’s hand and presses it against his heart, “I’m not hurting anymore. See? Feel it?”

Jace shakes his head.

“Find the bond inside you,” Robert says, “reach out with it. Feel what Alec feels.”

It’s easier said than done, but when Jace goes looking for that echo of pain, there’s nothing there. Just Alec’s heart, beating in rhythm with his own. “I- no. It’s… you’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” Alec nods.

“But why…”

“You most likely felt the pain of Alec’s punishment,” Robert says kindly. Jace doesn’t need the bond to interpret the sudden stillness that sets into Alec’s body.

“What punishment?”

“Jace-“ Alec pleads.

“What punishment?” Jace demands, louder. “I’m being punished! I broke the rules! Alec did nothing wrong!”

Robert answers before Alec gets the chance. “Alexander left the Institute to find you and your sister without informing anyone,” he says sternly, “and as he is responsible for you your actions, he is punished for them accordingly.”

That panic starts to crawl its way back up Jace’s throat, “No, he’s not… he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I broke the rules,” Alec says softly, “and I didn’t stop you and Izzy from doing the same. I deserve to be punished.”

Jace is shaking his head. “No! That’s not right! That’s not fair!” And it says so much about the life he’s lived here that the words tumble out of him without fear of the consequence. He rounds on Robert, fire in his eyes. “What did you do to him?”

“Jace! That’s enough!” Alec’s grip tightens. “You’re overreacting!”

Jace is shaking again, this time with heartbroken fury. “You said!” He rounds accusingly on Alec, hating the way his brother looks so confused in the face of Jace’s anger. “You said that didn’t happen here!”

“It - that’s different!” Jace can’t see how and says so. “Because it is!”

Robert kneels down beside the couch. Jace might be imagining the subtle way Alec flinches from him, but he’s sure as hell not imaging the sudden pulse of fear he feels through the bond. Baring his teeth, Jace glares Robert down. The man might be his adopted father, might be Head of the Institute, but Jace has faced far, far worse.

“Jace,” Robert says kindly, “son… I know how this looks-“

“I doubt it,” Jace snaps.

“What your father did to you, Jace, was abhorrent. It was… I never imagined Michael capable of such cruelty.” His eyes look suspiciously glassy, but he continues with an even voice. “When you came to us, all we wanted to do was protect you. Your mom and I, and Alec.” Alec’s hand tightens on Jace’s arm, holding him closer. “We agreed, for your sake, that corporal punishment would be impractical. Actually,” Robert suddenly looks at Alec in a way that makes Alec flush and look away. He never looks at Alec like that, not the way he often looks at Jace. “Alec’s exact words were ‘I’ll break any hand that touches him, yours included’.”

Jace gawks at his brother. Alec said that? Quiet, obedient, shy Alec actually said that to their father? Half the time Jace is convinced Alec is scared shitless of Robert.

“But- but you still-“ He wonders if Alec can feel Jace’s heart breaking. He has too, surely? It hurts more than any broken bone ever could.

Here, Jace has grown complacent and weak, thought incapable of taking his due punishment by his brother and father alike. And Alec —

“You beat him because I snuck out,” Jace accuses. “Did you beat Izzy too?”

Robert shakes his head. “Alec is responsible for both of you, and he needs to learn how to shoulder that responsibility. One day he’s going to be in charge around here, and actions always have consequences. Your mother and I have given him the responsibility of looking after and disciplining you and your sister. I, in turn, oversee him.”

“Alec never hits us,” Jace says. Over the years, that’s somehow gone from being a sign of his brother’s weakness to something Jace cherishes in him. Yes, Jace and Izzy mess around, they break some rules here and there, but mostly, they follow Alec’s orders and they do it out of love. Alec inspires obedience, he doesn’t demand it with pain.

“Perhaps if he had, you and your sister might not be so reckless?” It’s hard to know if Robert is making an observation or criticism.

Alec is barely breathing. “Jace, please. It’s okay. I’m sorry I scared you. Next time we’ll let you know before it happens. You’ll be prepared.”

Robert shakes his head. “Next time, you can watch,” he says, standing.

Alec flinches clean out of Jace’s embrace, stumbling towards their father. “No, please-“

Robert is already walking away, his back turned. “It’ll do you both good. Alec, you can’t protect your brother forever. Jace, I think perhaps it’s time you understood just how your actions affect those around you.”

“Please,” Alec whispers. “Please, not that.”

* * *

 

Magnus’s heart is a heavy, loaded weight in his chest. He thinks of Jace’s reckless, careless disregard for rules, of Alec, always so dutiful, and Isabelle, bouncing back and forth between the two. He thinks of Valentine and Robert and the damage both men have done to their sons. This, he thinks, full of bitterness and rage, is what happens when you turn children into soldiers. Any innocence they might cling to is torn away years before it should.

“Jace…”

Tear tracks stain Jace’s pale cheeks. “I started it, Magnus. I set him on a path that fucked him up so badly that he –”

“Ended up like you,” Magnus injects softly. Jace might be too close to see the terrible irony of it all, but Magnus isn’t. Jace has been indoctrinated into believing he deserves nothing but pain and Alec, in his gentle, empathetic attempt to protect his brother from further abuse, has ended up in exactly the same position. There’s no kind way to say as much, and Jace recoils as expected.

“Alec’s nothing like me,” he says, the fury in his voice making it clear he thinks Alec so much better. "He’s – he was-"

“A child so physically and emotionally abused that his only perception of reality was that failure of any kind should be met with swift and brutal punishment?”

It takes Jace a moment to understand what Magnus is saying. When the answer dawns, his responding expression might be downright terrifying in its ferociousness if Magnus wasn’t able to see that frightened ten-year-old lurking in the depths of his eyes. Magnus stares back unflinchingly, ready to catch Jace when the rage crumbles and leaves only devastation behind.

“They hurt him because of me. Because my failures are his failures. And he thinks there’s nothing wrong with that. He thinks it’s okay.”

“You have both been groomed and manipulated by your fathers,” Magnus says. He doesn’t need centuries of experience dealing with the Clave to know that much. He’s got his own terribly fucked up relationship with his father to call upon for understanding. “I’ve walked in your shoes, Jace, believe me. It’s not your fault.”

“Robert’s nothing like Valentine,” Jace protests.

Magus nods his head. “In many ways, you’re correct. But Valentine wasn’t born in a vacuum. The Clave is cruel in many ways, and their morally ambiguous childrearing techniques are just some of them. No child deserves to be treated the way you and Alec have been treated. That wasn’t punishment, Jace, it was abuse. No child should be forced to shed their blood to pay for the mistakes of their sibling, nor should they be forced into obedience by the threat of violence to someone they love.”

Jace shudders, “I wasn’t very obedient. I didn’t think Robert would dare, if I was there. Then I thought maybe Alec would stop him. It -- I didn’t fuck up so he’d be punished. I wanted him to fight back. Or to hate me like I deserve, or — that’s… I read a book. It’s… that’s what kids do, right? When they’re abused. They do the same to others?” He says the word abuse like it doesn’t quite fit in his mouth.

“Is that what you think you’ve done?” Magnus asks. Jace is more self-aware than Magnus has ever credited him with being. And so much more damage. 

Jace shrugs his shoulders brokenly. “Must be, right? Alec wasn’t fucked up before I came along.”

“You really do have a terribly high opinion of yourself,” Magnus shakes his head, ignoring the sudden flash of outrage in Jace’s eyes. “Jace, your brother has shouldered the weight of responsibility for the Lightwood family since the day he was born. You were a frightened child with no expectation but a perpetuation of the abuse you’d come to expect. It was always going to be a volatile combination, but believe me when I say that neither you nor Alec deserves any of the blame.”

“So it’s the Clave’s fault?” Jace asks dubiously.

“Quite so,” Magnus agrees. He has a few choice words for Robert and Maryse Lightwood, and two decades of systematic abuse to overcome with his boyfriend. The Clave will answer for their part in Alec’s pain. Magnus has no intention of leaving this unpunished. He, unlike Alec and Jace, is more than capable of recognizing and fighting their cruelty. “One question.”

Jace’s now empty glass is tipped as if to say ‘continue’.

“How bad did it get?”

Jace swallows, and suddenly Magnus can’t get the image out of his head of two brothers clinging to each other, frightened by the intensity of their new bond and hurting in ways no child ever should. “Pretty bad,” he admits softly. “He refused to let me see how much it hurt him. Didn’t make a sound, didn’t flinch. So —“

“So they beat him harder to try and force a reaction,” Magnus surmises, Alec's earlier, horrifying stoicism making so much more sense. That wasn't something anyone could just do without a great deal of practice. If Alec's been hiding his pain from Jace right from the start, no wonder he's so adept at doing so now. “Was it just Robert? I need names if I am going to skin them all alive.”

“That’s just a phrase, right?” It’s hard to tell if Jace wants it to be or not.

Magnus’s answering smile is the smile he learned from his father. “Perhaps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming next:
> 
> Alec arrives home with pizza, Jace takes over the couch, Isabelle is not someone to fuck around with, and Magnus makes plans.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all the angst of the last few chapters, have something completely fluffy!
> 
> On another note, now we are wrapping this story up, I do have another in the works. It's quite possibly the angstiest thing I've ever written, which is to say everyone suffers a whole lot. I like digging into tropes and exploring the consequences, and while I've read my fair share of 'fuck-or-die' fics, I don't recall many that actually delve into the long term consequences for everyone involved. Given the epically complicated relationships between Alec and Jace, Alec and Magnus, and Alec, Magnus and Jace, there's a whole goldmine of issues to tap into that I'm playing around with. 
> 
> So I guess my question is: would you guys be interested in reading?

Jace is practically boneless when Magnus deposits him on his couch. One day he’ll meet a Shadowhunter who isn’t a complete lightweight, but today is apparently not the day. “Isabelle can drink both you and your brother under the table,” Magnus tells Jace, who, unlike Alec, is a maudlin drunk.

The sound Jace makes is undecipherable, and on any other occasion, Magnus would take great delight in teasing him. Instead, he fetches the throw he and Alec often cuddle under and drapes it gently over Jace’s sprawling form. It’s enormous – enchanted to accommodate Alec’s impossibly long legs – and the result leaves Jace looking as young and defenseless as he truly is.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to him, you know that right?” Jace murmurs, snuggling into the soft folds of fabric. “Alec, I mean.”

Gently, Magnus brushes the golden hair out of Jace’s eyes. He’s always had a reputation for ‘adopting strays’ and that’d be enough to soften his foolish heart, but the added knowledge that Jace is Alec’s brother, that their souls are one, heightens every protective instinct Magnus has. He’ll defend Jace with all the power he has at his disposal. “As he is for me,” Magnus says.

“Ugh,” Jace grimaces, closing his eyes and flopping a hand over his face to hide from the dim lights. “You’re both disgustingly cute. It’s the worst.”

“That nausea you’re feeling is most likely the scotch,” Magnus teases. “Would you like me to get you a glass of water?”

“Or more scotch?” Jace asks hopefully.

Magnus makes himself a drink, shaking his head with a grin. “I have no desire to explain to your darling brother why I allowed you to get alcohol poisoning in my apartment.”

“Wimp,” Jace scowls, “Alec’s not that scary.”

Thoughts of Alec during the past few months surface in Magnus’s memory. “Oh, he certainly is, at least when it comes to you. I almost felt sorry for the demons who crossed his path while you were missing. He was absolutely insufferable.” And frightening. Magnus has never feared Alec, but he frequently fears for him.

He watches Jace carefully for any indication that he’s upset by the comment, but Jace merely smirks. “He ever tell you what happened when we were kids?”

“I’m sure a great deal happened when you were children,” Magnus remarks dryly.

Gaining some of his equilibrium, Jace props himself up on the couch so he can see Magnus face to face. The prospect of a story has him focusing through the residual effects of the alcohol. “I was twelve, I think? Maybe. And our training was pretty intense. Shocking, though it might be, but not everyone at the Institute liked me back then.”

“The horror,” Magnus rolls his eyes playfully, making Jace’s grin stretch wide across his face. “Uptight, repressive, arrogant Shadowhunters failing to appreciate it when they get their asses kicked by a preteen. Who could possibly have predicted that?”

“Can’t help it if I’m the best,” Jace shrugs. He’s slowly piecing back his armor, and Magnus is happy to let him. With war constantly looming, they have neither the time or the luxury to heal the way they all truly need to. This, a patch job, usually has to do. “So I wasn’t paying a massive amount of attention. I’d already beaten five other fighters. Anyway, this one guy - he’s maybe twice Alec’s age – gets carried away and breaks my arm in like, three places.” He waves his arm in Magnus’s direction, as if to indicate the damage done. “Got it healed up super quick, no lasting damage or anything. Alec wasn’t even in the room when it happened. He heard it from someone who heard it from someone else, who told Izzy, and the next thing I know, I’m chowing down with the guy in the mess and Alec’s knocking out his four front teeth. There was blood everywhere!”

Magnus gets the impression that there’s far more to the story than Jace is admitting: accidents happen during training, and Alec isn’t so completely irrational when it comes to his siblings that he’ll fly into a violent rage over a simple mishap. There’s context missing, but he appreciates what Jace is trying to say.

“He broke his hand on Raphael’s face,” Magnus says. “Not that he didn’t have cause, but I’m more than aware of the lengths Alexander will go to when he feels someone he loves is being threatened. Though - speaking of your brother-” Magnus pulls out his phone and sends a quick message. “Just how long do you think he can hide in paperwork for?”

“Record’s three and a half weeks,” Jace snorts. “Izzy drugged his coffee. It wasn’t pretty.”

Magnus imagines not. Poor Alec. “Hopefully we won’t have to resort to anything so dramatic.”

“Nah,” Jace says, “he’s all doe-eyed in love with you. He won’t make you wait. Me and Iz, on the other hand…. The words ‘fuck off, Jace,’ spring to mind.”

“A lover’s prerogative,” Magnus’s smirk becomes a fully formed grin when Jace pulls a face. Fortunately for him, a knock on the door stalls any further teasing Magnus might attempt.

Reaching out with his magic, Magnus raises an eyebrow, snapping his fingers to allow admittance. “It’s apparently a Lightwood sibling sleepover. Hello Isabelle, you’re looking as delightful as ever.”

Isabelle Lightwood is all that keeps Magnus from a state of despair over Alec’s wardrobe. Clearly, one Lightwood has some sense of style, so there has to be hope for the rest of them. Even Jace manages to work an aesthetic. Up until they started dating, Alec hasn’t owned a single item of clothing that isn’t Institute issue. Magnus will get him in couture if it kills him. He’s patient.

“Magnus!” He’s surprised when Isabelle moves straight in to hug him. The Lightwood siblings are all deeply affectionate with one another, but rarely with outsiders. “Thank you for looking after my brother.”

“Which one?” Magnus jokes, looking over to Jace. She doesn’t immediately answer, instead rushing to Jace’s side and fussing over him the way only a sister can. Jace halfheartedly bats her hands away, but smiles into the half-headlock, half hug she finally forces him into.

“Idiot,” she grumbles, before kissing him on the forehead. “Now,” pushing back to rest on her heels, all concern for Jace falls behind a look Magnus is starting to think of as The Lightwood Look. “What did you say to Alec?”

Jace grimaces and starts to untangle himself from the blanket. It’s easier said than done. “You talked to him?”

Isabelle rolls her eyes and shoves at Jace’s shoulder until he makes room for her on the couch. “If by talk you mean did I go see him after spending an hour being cried on by a traumatized thirteen-year-old only to get the ‘I’m busy fixing your field reports, Izzy, come back later’, then yes, I talked to him. Now, what did you do?”

Magnus leans against the wall and watches, fascinated, as Jace bristles in irrigation. “Who says I did anything?”

“Please,” Isabelle scoffs, “‘fixing my field reports’ my ass. You might not be able to differentiate between a verb and an adjective, but my reports are perfect, and everyone knows it. He only ever pulls that shit when he’s avoiding me.”

Jace looks pleadingly at Magnus, who flails at the idea of being the target of Isabelle’s ire. Magnus might be immortal, but he’s lived as long as he has mostly by not getting in the path of angry sisters.

Isabelle’s dark eyes dart between them, reading the room in a way that proves she’s by far the more socially observant of her siblings. “Is this about what happened in Faerie?”

“How’d you-“

“Theo told me,” she says, the anger draining from her face. “Oh Jace, what happened?”

Jace’s done a good job at rebuilding himself after his emotional turmoil at the bar, but he’s far from on solid ground. Under Isabelle’s gentle eyes, his chin wobbles dangerously. “I did what I always do,” he says sullenly.

Isabelle brushes back the same strand of hair that Magnus attempted to tame. Jace leans into her touch the way he hadn’t with Magnus. “Oh sweetheart,” she whispers. “You know it’s not your fault.” Jace freezes, his face still turned into her touch. “You think I don’t know? You’re my brothers. I don’t need to be your _parabatai_ to know when you’re hurting.”

“Iz-“ How tightly has Jace been clinging to the fear of being cast out over the years? That fear of being thrown away by his adoptive family has played such a huge part in the tragedy that has unfolded, and now, faced with the knowledge that his sister knows of the abuse Jace blames himself for…

Magnus knows there’s no possible way either of them can have this conversation with Alec. He knows in his bones that while Jace might melt and allow himself to be wrapped in Isabelle’s arms, Alec is a long way from being able to accept comfort from anyone. He’s been isolated to the point where he has justified his pain as a necessary part of his role as big brother and protector.

This is why Magnus has been allowed in. This is why Jace opened his heart, and why Isabelle hasn’t just rushed him back to the Institute. Magnus knows he has Alec’s trust and has always assumed that the ease and openness Isabelle and Jace show him is born of their trust in their brother. Now, realizing how much more than that it truly is, Magnus feels the last, hidden, dusty parts of his heart fall wide open.

Jace and Isabelle’s whole world rises and sets with their love for Alec, and here they are, trusting Magnus with the most precious parts of their soul.

“You two deserve each other,” Isabelle says fondly, stroking a hand over Jace’s hair.

“I didn’t mean to get mad at him,” Jace’s voice is muffled against her long hair. “I just — why can’t he see?”

“We have to help him, okay?” Isabelle says. “You and me and Magnus. You can get Clary involved,” her smile turns teasing, and Jace predictably laughs.

“God no, he’d have an aneurysm,” Jace shudders.

An understatement, perhaps, if not for the reasons Jace likely thinks. Alec is long past his personal dislike of Clary. He’s still half convinced that she and Jace might accidentally start an apocalypse if left unsupervised — and it’s not an entirely unfair assumption — but he’s come a long way. Still, he’d be mortified if she knew.

“Who’d have an aneurysm?” Alec’s voice by Magnus’s shoulder is too soft and beloved to startle him too much. The kiss he drops on Magnus’s cheek is sweet. Given that their first - Alec’s first - kiss was a pretty intense lip-lock in a room full of people, Alec’s still fairly shy when it comes to PDAs.

“Alexander,” Magnus reaches for the hand that isn’t juggling a stack of pizza boxes and raises it to his lips.

“Hey,” Alec says. His smile is the same wide, open smile Magnus remembers from this morning. There’s no shadow of earlier pain in his eyes. An outsider looking at that smile would see nothing but a man in love.

“Hey! Pizza!” Jace untangles himself from Isabelle, perking up in excitement at the prospect of food. “Did you get pepperoni?”

Alec sets the boxes down on the coffee table and shoots Magnus a pleading look. That’s Magnus’s cue to make him a martini before he throttles Jace with one of the curtain ties.

“No, Jace, I didn’t get pepperoni, because I didn’t expect you to be gatecrashing date night. Again.”

“My fault,” Magnus says before Jace can misread Alec’s exasperation for actual anger. “I plied your brother with entirely too much alcohol and felt it best not to leave him unsupervised.”

“You make me sound like a puppy that hasn’t been house trained,” Jace protests. “I wasn’t gonna pee on the carpets!”

“I hope not! They’re Persian!” Magnus chuckles.

Isabelle starts to laugh but Magnus doesn't miss the way her eyes track Alec up and down, looking for signs of hurt. “How many bar fights have we fished you out of?”

From the kitchen, Alec yells, “Thirty seven!”

Jace shakes his head. “No. No its absolutely not that many.”

Returning with plates to dish up the pizza, Alec shoots his brother a smirk. “Tuesday 11th April, 2013, Saturday 17th March 2013-“

“You started a bar fight when you were thirteen?” Magnus passes Alec a drink and sips his fingers, doubling the pizza pile and flashing them all a ‘you’re welcome smile’. It earns him a delighted grin from Alec, and another kiss.

“Yes,” Jace says around a slice, “and no way do you remembers all the dat- you’ve got a spreadsheet, don’t you.” It’s less a question than it is an accusation. “It’s like they made you in a lab.”

“Tab one,” Isabelle is practically crying with laughter now, “‘times we had to pick Jace up off the floor of a bar’, tab two, ‘times Jace nearly started a political crisis in Alicante by pissing off someone from the Clave’, tab three-“

“I got it!” Jace yells, flicking a slice of mushroom at his sister. It lands on the silk of her dress and before he can apologize, Isabelle is smacking him around the head with a couch cushion that’s been around longer than all three Lightwoods combined.

Magnus doesn’t even consider putting a stop to their play fight. The times they can relax and be young are few and far between, and after the day they’ve all had…

Alec’s hand settles into his own. “Thank you,” he says softly, drawing Magnus away from the prying eyes of his siblings. “For looking after him.”

“Darling,” Magnus cups his cheek and aches to see Alec lean into the touch with the same longing Jace had shown Isabelle. “You have nothing to thank me for.”

“You’re so good with them, with me,” Alec says, dark lashes falling closed.

“You’re hardly a chore, Alexander.”

Every line of Alec’s face is seared into Magnus’s memory. Those thick, dark lashes and the high arch of his cheekbones. The wide, full mouth that is starting to smile more and more. Magnus adores every inch of him, but he can’t deny that Alec has the ability to gut him wide open with just a glance. There’s so much gratitude in his expression, so much bewildered joy, as if he can’t possibly believe his luck.

“You-“ he swallows, “you talked to Jace?”

“I did,” Magnus answers. “He… explained the situation.”

Alec nods seriously, a soldier faced with an unpleasant task but determined to see it through none the less. “You want to talk about it.” A statement, not a question.

In truth? No, not really. What Magus wants is to use every ounce of power he has at his fingertips to erase every second of pain from Alec’s life. That’s neither fair nor practical. He can try his best to protect Alec from further harm, but the past is, painfully, beyond his ability to touch. All he can do is hold Alec in his arms, and be there.

“Not tonight,” Magnus says softly. “Tonight, I just want to kiss you.”

Relief lights up Alec’s expression. “I can do that,” he says, his hand settling on Magnus’s hip, pulling him closer.

“Don’t mind us!” Isabelle calls cheerfully. She’s kneeling on Jace’s back and pinning him face first to the couch cushions. “Come on Jace! Time to leave the love birds to it!”

“Goodnight, Izzy!” Alec doesn’t even bother looking at her.

“Can’t breathe!” Jace chokes, finally wriggling to the point where he can squirm out from underneath her. She shrieks as he throws her over one shoulder, but has the sense to grab one of the pizza boxes as they pass the coffee table.

“You boys have fun!” she calls, kicking Jace in the chest until he puts her down. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

“Why couldn’t I have been an only child?” Alec moans, giving up on the pretense of playing things cool and burying his face in Magnus’s shoulder.

“Use protection!” Is Jace’s addition, which is the moment Magnus decides to give them a magical helping hand through the front door. It slams on Isabelle’s ringing laughter.

“I’m putting them up for adoption,” Alec says, clinging to Magnus with both arms. “You think Catarina will take them?”

“Not after being spoiled by Madzie,” Magnus strokes his hair. “Now, I believe you said something about date night?”

Reluctantly entangling himself from Magnus, Alec makes a grab for pizza. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Food,” Magnus says, taking his hand and drawing him down onto the couch. Magic pulls the throw over both their legs, and Alec sighs in contentment. “You’ve not eaten since breakfast. I’d rather not rely on your stamina runes for what I’ve got planned for tonight.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up Magnus and Alec have their talk, and Magnus pays a visit to Alec's parents.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Thank you so much for all your feedback. It's so scary stepping into a new fandom, and you've been wonderful!

It’s three months before Magnus is presented with the opportunity to approach Maryse and Robert Lightwood. Those three months pass with almost alarming speed; a catalog of Magnus’s clients, Alec’s overwhelming workload, and the varied dilemmas their rapidly increasing circle of friends seem to encounter daily. It’s been three months of sleepy, early morning kisses and moments of passion frantically snatched between one unfolding drama and the next. It’s been three months of talking around the subject of Alec’s childhood, of a patience Magnus is surprised to find endless, and of careful, blossoming trust.

Alec has the uncanny ability to drop bombshells when Magnus is least expecting them. He’s testing the ground, carefully establishing evermoving lines in the sand. Magnus has learned quickly that the only way to respond to the things Alec tells him is with quiet, almost apathetic calmness. Rage has to stay hidden. Horror must be carefully checked. Alec won’t protest when Magnus holds him a little tighter, a little longer, but he’ll shut down entirely if Magnus gives any hint of how upset he truly is.

The long, painfully slow process, has revealed several truths.

The first, but somehow not the most upsetting, is that the beatings continued long after Jace discovered them. Jace’s furious inaction in the Seelie Court finds an explanation in the context that for every time he protested Alec’s abuse, either verbally or physically, the length and intensity of the act would increase. They ended only when Alec became acting head of the Institute, and Jace, artfully manipulative in a way he rarely is, convinced Alec of the inappropriateness of such a childish punishment being used on someone in the position he was. Magnus is more than convinced this is what has led into Alec’s occasional refusal to heal minor injuries – a form of self-flagellation they need to break him of as quickly as possible.

The second, and most heartbreaking, is the knowledge that without Jace’s intervention, Alec might never have done anything to protect himself. The beatings became such a consistent part of his life that instead of waiting for Jace or Isabelle to earn him a punishment by proxy, Alec would catalog and report his own failures and hand himself over for correction.

He’s unknowingly reduced Magnus to tears on more than one occasion and driven him to bi-monthly drinking sessions with both Isabelle and Jace. Alec, seeing only that the three people he loves most in the world are choosing to spend time together, never questions the conversations they have. Magnus might feel guilty, but they are the only things keeping him from setting the Institute on fire every time he sets foot on the grounds.

“Mom knows,” is Isabelle’s contribution one evening. “I confronted her about it, and she barely looked at me for a year after.”

Maryse is the one Magnus struggles with the most. He knows Robert less well and can only take cues from his interactions with the people around him. Until Jace’s heartbreaking confession, Magnus might even’ve thought Robert the more rational and sympathetic of Alec’s parents. He’s certainly seemed to accept his and Alec’s relationship far quicker than Maryse has. It’s a reminder that even with his centuries of practice, you can’t always read people as clearly as you think. Magnus has always had an awareness of the way Shadowhunters are raised, but this brutality is something he’s not seen coming. Maryse, as stern and uncompromising as she is, has shown on more than one occasion that she adores Alec, even if she struggles to accept his choices.

“Has he talked to you about it?” Is Jace’s question the first evening, and every evening following.

Magnus always smiles painfully and orders them more drinks. “Of course not. Has he talked to you?”

“I let him kick my ass a couple of times in training,” Jace grins, knowing that while other people might need to exchange actually words, he and Alec can have entire dialogues without uttering a single sound.

Then there’s the six billion dollar question: what, if anything, is Magnus going to do about it?

He’ll let Alec come to him, that much he does know. There’s nothing to be gained from backing him into a corner, and every direct attempt will be taken as a confrontation. Magnus can draw him in, but the rest has to be on Alec’s terms.

As for Maryse and Robert…

Three months is more than enough time to run through a few thousand scenarios. They range in credibility, from handing them both over to his father for a lesson of their own to turning them into mealworms and feeding them to ducks in Central Park. Let them see how it feels to be at the mercy of someone so much more powerful. Let them feel as cornered and helpless as they’ve left Alec.

Ultimately, Magnus comes to the disappointing conclusion that he can’t actually punish either of them the way he truly desires. Alec loves them, for all their many faults, and Magnus can’t be the one to take that from him. Nor can he remove the option of Alec getting closure of his own if and when he’s ready to do so.

It leaves him with very few options. The only thing he is certain of is that he cannot risk a return to form. If Alec is to heal, there can be no risk of the abuse happening again. That, unfortunately, means bluffing. 

The one thing he does enjoy about Maryse is her ability to cut directly to the point. It’s a rare find in a politician, but when Magnus lets himself into the office she and her husband have been assigned while visiting from Idris, she looks him up and down and jumps right to it.

“I take it you’re here about Alec.”

“You’re not wrong,” Magnus inclines his head. He waits them out, taking the chance to collect his rage and relax his hold on the magic in his blood that sings with the desire for pain. There’s a voice in his head reminding him that he is Asmodeus’s son. He’s done far worse to far more innocent victims. He can make them scream like Alec must be screaming inside. He can make them beg the way Jace begs. He can make them cry the way Isabelle cries….

“We don’t have all day,” Maryse prompts. She’s not being outright aggressive, but her impatience is clear.

“You know who I am,” Magnus says slowly. “The Clave keeps meticulous records, so I’m certain you can guess the things I am capable of.”

“Why do you think we were so worried when you started seeing our son?” Robert asks mildly. “Alec might be a warrior, but his heart is far too gentle for his own good.”

He sounds so worried, so serious. He sounds like a loving, protective father, and the worst part is that he probably sees himself as just that. Bitterness bubbles in Mangus’s chest and escapes him in a harsh bark of laughter.

“Well, we know you did your best to beat that out of him, didn’t you?” he spits.

Impatient, Maryse moves around her desk and crosses her arms. “What exactly is this about?”

“This,” Magnus spits, “is about me making it very, very clear what I will do to you if either of you raises a hand to him again.”

“Excuse-“

“You heard me,” Magnus snaps, his rage contained by barely a thread of self-control. “If you touch him, if you say one unkind word to him, if you look at him in a way that displeases me-“

Robert stands, furious. “How we raise our children is none of your business, Downworlder.” Alec got his height from both his parents, but Robert is far broader than either Alec or Jace. How intimidating must he've been to them both as children? How intimidating must he _still_ be?

“You didn’t raise Alec, you _tortured and brainwashed him_ -“ they both begin to speak, but Magnus finally snaps. He silences them with a wave of magic that sweeps the room. “I’m not done! I might not be able to change the past, but I can make absolutely certain you never cause him another moment of pain.”

He waits for them to stop trying to speak before finally releasing the spell. Maryse recovers first. “And how do you plan on doing that? Killing us?”

“Nothing so dramatic,” Magnus smiles. It’s not a nice smile. Not the kind he saves for Alec. “Though I’ll admit the thought did cross my mind. No, you’re going to be the perfect parents to all of your children. You’re going to show them kindness and encouragement and love - all the things a child deserves from their mother and father. If you don’t - if by action or inaction you hurt them, Alec, as Head of the New York Institute, will be informed that a young shadowhunter in your care is facing the same abuse he endured as a child.”

Maryse understands quicker than Robert. “Max,” she looks panicked. “Please, do not hurt my son.” Tears come to her eyes far easier than they do Alec’s.

“I have no intention of allowing any harm to come to any of your children,” Magnus assures her.

“Neither do we,” Robert says coldly. “I’ve never raised a finger to Max. I’ve never needed to.” The words unspoken, and the implication that Alec somehow deserves everything Robert has done to him, leaves Magnus fighting a coldness his magic can't hope to warm. 

Magnus breathes out of clenched teeth. “You know that. I know that. But memories are…. fickle things….” he twirls his wrist, and lets magic dance through his fingers, the threat clear. “How do you imagine Alec will react once he learns you beat his beloved brother the same way you beat him? I imagine if he leaves anything left of you, he’ll not stop Jace and Isabelle from finishing you off.”

“You’d lie to him?” Maryse looks broken as tears fall down her cheeks.

Magnus is done. He’s no interest in spending any more time with them than he has to. Turning, he spares them one last contemptuous look. “I would spend the rest of eternity waging war for him. I would lay siege to Alicante and eviscerate anyone who condones what you have done to him. I will protect him with every drop of magic I possess, and you ask if I would do so small a thing as lie?”

They have no answer for him, and Magnus doesn’t wait to hear their excuses.

 

* * *

 

 

Even with the absolutely decadent bathtub Magnus has installed, it takes a few tweaks of magic in order for both he and Alec to fit comfortably. Resting against Alec’s chest, Magnus idly allows his thumb to trace patterns on Alec’s knee. He’s had plenty of occasions to marvel at Alec’s flexibility but is still impressed by the way he casually drapes one of his long legs over the edge of the tub. The other is tangled with Magnus’s, and there’s a veritable mountain of bubbles topping water that’s enchanted to never lose its heat. Occasionally, Alec will set down the wine glass dangling from his fingers and run his hands through Magnus’s wet hair. This – soft jazz, expensive wine, and a bubble bath – has been Magnus’s most successful endeavor in his attempt to introduce Alec to the concept of self-care, but it’s still not something he will indulge in if Magnus isn’t with him. Baby steps.

“How’d your talk with my parents go?” Alec murmurs. He’s been lulled into soft sleepiness by the soothing properties of the water, and the question is more curious than it is accusatory. If he’s angry with Magnus for going behind his back, he’s also too tired to really care.

Still, Magnus pauses and stops drawing patterns on Alec’s knee. “You heard about that?”

“Head of the Institute,” Alec reminds him, “there’s not much that happens in the building I don’t get to hear about.”

“Ah,” Magnus starts to move from the casual circle of Alec’s arm, only to be held gently in place. He’d much rather have this conversation with Alec face to face, but is this is how Alec needs to do it… “Alexander-“

“I’m not mad,” Alec promises. His large hand spreads across Magnus’s chest. “I’m not sure I want to know what you guys talked about,” he chuckles, “But I’m not mad. Really.” It occurs to Magnus that Alec isn’t so much trying to stop him from moving as he is just trying to hold on to him. Magnus closes a hand over Alec’s wrist and squeezes gently.

“I wish I could say that wasn’t the problem,” Magnus tells him. He’s spent months having this conversation in his head, gearing himself up to do battle with Alec at his most defensive. Now, faced with the opposite, he’s not sure how best to continue.

“I know – I know you think there’s this great, terrible thing that happened to me,” Alec’s voice is low and calm against Magnus’s ear. They’re in an intimate position for an even more intimate conversation, and Magnus feels as though the only thing holding the rest of the world at bay is the careful thread of magic that has woven this little corner of peace for them both. It’s so fragile, so very precious.

“You don’t?”

“When my parents adopted Jace, he was so scared of us he stopped sleeping,” Alec’s heartbeat is a solid, comforting beat against Magnus’s skin. “I thought maybe it was because he was afraid of what we’d do to him, but he was so used to the pain he found the absence of it worse than anything. I knew – I knew I had to protect him. Had to make him understand that no one had the right to hurt him like that. That it wasn’t normal.”

“You’re a good brother, Alexander,” Magnus assures him. “But it was never your responsibility. Your parents –“

“Felt guilty,” Alec interrupts. “Michael Wayland was my father’s _parabatai_. He should’ve known something was wrong: they never should’ve left Jace alone with him. When they realized what’d happened – what they’d _let_ happen…” he sighs, and all the weight of the past decade hang in the heaviness of that one sound. “They didn’t take much convincing to let me stand in for any punishment he earned. It was good experience for me.”

“Darling-“ Magnus can’t keep the pain from his voice.

“He’s my responsibility, Magnus. Same way Theo is. If I can’t control their actions, I can at least own responsibility for them. Jace will always be pissed because I didn’t tell him, and that’s fair, but if that’s the price I have to pay for helping him feel safe, then I’ll pay it a hundred times over. He’s my brother.”

More than anything, Magnus wants to look Alec in the eye and tell him how very much Magnus loves him.

“You, as an adult in a position of authority over a thirteen-year-old boy, choosing to accept punishment on his behalf is in no way equable with you, as a _twelve-year-old boy_ , being encouraged by your parents to accept beatings on behalf of your traumatized siblings!”

Alec tenses against him. “Magnus-“

Magnus closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Patience. _Patience_. “Forgive me, Alexander. I am trying to see this from your point of view, I promise you, but — okay, a hypothetical here, if you’ll indulge me?”

“Always,” Alec whispers.

Magnus laces their hands together and brings Alec’s fingers to his lip in a gesture of thanks. “I want you to imagine that we - you and I - are Madzie’s parents.” He feels the sigh of longing against his neck and kisses Alec’s knuckles again. “Now imagine we adopt another child, a child who has been through something similar to Jace. Would you allow Madzie to do as you did? Would you encourage her to put aside her own right to safety and security in order to make this child feel better?”

He’s prepared for Alec’s reaction and holds him tightly, refusing to allow him to pull away. “Of course not! Madzie’s seven!”

“So in five years time? You’re happy to beat her bloody to teach her a lesson?”

“My parents didn’t enjoy what they had to do!” Alec cries.

For the first time, Magnus is glad Alec can’t see his expression. “But they still did it!” He allows the rage and the hatred he feels for their actions to finally seep into his voice. “Would you? Would you put duty and the twisted ideology of the Clave above your need to protect your child? Could you look at her, knowing how she idolizes you, and beat her so violently that she learns to take every blow without crying? Would you make the child she endures this to protect watch and beg the way Jace begged your father?”

The sound Alec makes is closer to a sob than anything Magnus has ever heard from him and he doesn’t have the heart to stop Alec from scrambling out of the bath, desperate for space. That doesn’t stop Magnus from following, reaching first to pass Alec his robe before putting on his own.

Alec clutches the edges of the soft, expensive fabric. “Why are you doing this?” He lets Magnus take a gentle hold of him by the shoulders, but doesn’t move into the embrace that’s being offered.

“Answer the question, Alexander,” Magnus pleads.

He can count less than a handful of times in which he’s seen Alec cry and isn’t surprised to see the glassy gleam of tears stubbornly refuse to fall from his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to ask me that,” Alec says brokenly.

Cupping his cheek, Magnus draws him closer. “ _I don’t._ But darling, you think that makes you weak when it is so very much the opposite.”

“I would never hurt Madzie. I would _never_ -“

“Alec, shush it’s alright,” Magnus says, pressing a finger to Alec’s trembling lips. “I know you wouldn’t. You’re the gentlest, most loving man I have ever met. I’m not saying these things to upset you. I just-“ He sighs and rests their foreheads together. “I’m sorry, my darling.”

Alec is tentative in winding his arms around Magnus, but once they are settled in an embrace, the tension slowly eases from his shoulders. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he admits.

“I want you to say you deserve better,” Magnus tells him, “and I want you to mean it.”

Alec is silent for the longest time. “I promised I’d never lie to you,” he says regretfully. “The things you’re saying, about Madzie, about - it wasn’t the same. I _wanted_ to help Jace. I _wanted_ to be useful. I felt better about myself being able to protect him. I felt like I was doing something useful, something good. The pain was never the price I paid, it was just a consequence.”

He’s right about something, Magnus realizes. Alec was born to endure pain, both from his training and his place as a soldier on the front lines of an eternal war. Pain has never been the cost. It might be kinder if it were.

Before anything, before choice and consequence, before pain and secrecy and a child’s justification of the world twisted into an adult’s self-sacrificing masochism, Alec lost something Magnus can never return to him.

Memories of their first date rush to mind. Of the bewildered, slightly terrified understanding of how little experience Alec can bring to the table and the knowledge that a self-confessed hedonist has to proceed with so much care.

_You’re so innocent._

_In some ways._

At the time, it was nothing more than a child proclaiming a maturity they hadn’t earned.

Now, Magnus reads the jaded exclamation for what it is. Alec is innocent, still, in so many ways. Just not in the one that matters the most.

His childhood has been stolen from him, and no magic in the world can return it.

That innocence, the most important one, has been sacrificed on an altar of war.

“I know you see it that way,” Magnus, says, drawing Alec out of the bathroom and towards their bedroom. “And maybe one day things will change-“ he quietens Alec’s protest before he can even give it voice, “-but until then, know this: I will never allow anyone to hurt you again. I will neither stand aside or stay quiet while you are in pain, and if I have to burn the world to ash to see you safe, I will do so with a smile on my face.”

“Magnus-“

“You might be willing to sacrifice your blood to spare someone,” Magnus says, eye to eye with Alec now and drowning in the depths of tormented hurt he sees reflected back. “and I will damn my soul to spare you.”

Magnus wills the truth of his words into his expressions and Alec flinches back in horror. “I’m not worth that!”

“No,” Magnus agrees, “you’re worth so much more. It might take the rest of our lives together to prove it to you, but I will.”

He watches a whole gauntlet of emotions race through Alec’s eyes, and waits. There’s no rushing this. Alec is off balance, but he always comes back to Magnus. It might take a moment, but hopefully, he always will. Eventually, in true Alec Lightwood fashion, a small, tentative smile touches his lips. “I can accept you wanting to protect me - maybe no burning-“

“I make no promises,” Magnus smiles back.

Alec rolls his eyes and continues. “I can accept it, _if_ you accept that I get to protect you back.”

“We can negotiate,” Magnus allows.

“We protect each other,” Alec says firmly. “That’s the only way this works.”

“Fine,” Magnus relents with a dramatic sigh. “You get to poke people full of arrows, I get to set them on fire-“

“No fire.”

“This seems very one-sided. Gentle scorching?”

Alec pretends to think about it. “I’ll accept singeing. And I won’t shoot anyone anywhere super fatal.”

“Mildly fatal then?”

It wins him a laugh, truly Magnus’s most treasured thing. “I love you,” Alec says, his eyes crinkling. He leans obediently down so that Magnus can kiss him.

That, Magnus knows, is the truth. And when he says “I love you, too,” he knows Alec believes it. It’s not a magic fix. It’s not a cure for all his hurts.

It’s an ember. A spark.

Magnus has done a lot more, with a lot less.

 


End file.
